Not her flab
smacking the tile
but the constriction
of her heart
from the laughter
that followed
Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling
Things sad in so many ways
You can’t even count them.
So which is it?
Don’t change, she said
Right after she fired me
for being the way I was.
The sound of another man’s apple
Gets between
me and the page
and you and me,
his incisors
breaking the skin,
unfortunately,
and there’s a certain
sloshing
you don’t want to hear.
Not mine
But still, not good.
Earbuds now
serve the one lonely brain,
but we two
were earbuds once,
with two cans and a string
pulled tight in between.
From here it gets tricky
Plum crazy
sounds like
a good crazy to be.
Even W.C.
rejoiced in its juice
in his plum crazy
poetry.
From nothing comes
alumination:
the ball struck
now spinning
to a far outfield
of the mind.
We’re with it going,
going gone.
Utrecht Journal 